


Paint it Black

by Trickster_God_Gabriel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, M/M, Soldier Gabriel, Soldier Sam, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:23:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3144068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickster_God_Gabriel/pseuds/Trickster_God_Gabriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is where bonds are formed, where men show their worth and everyone does their part to keep their country safe. This is where he meets Sam and somehow everything makes sense. War changes you, but sometimes it's not all that bad. I mean, sure people are dying and you spend each night hoping that you don't freeze to death or get bombed in your sleep, but sometimes there are moments that you wouldn't change for anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Here We Are

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first attempt at a Supernatural fic. I apologize in advance for any historical inaccuracies or just plain bad writing.

He couldn't quite remember life before all this mess. It seemed like a distant memory, wishful thinking, all too innocent and naive to be real. All those games he'd play with his brothers, fighting each other over petty little things, riding horses across their land and building dens in the forest. It's all so far away, a concept which he's not sure he'll be able to grasp again.

The cold is everywhere, seeped into his bones and numbing his skin. He can't feel the paper of the letter clutched between his fingers or the cigarette between his lips. He sees the words written clearly but he doesn't register them fully until he's re-read the letter for the fifth time. He feels like a part of himself has died with message.

He feels somebody slide down next to him in his foxhole and he comes back to himself, folding the letter and tucking it away in a pocket, pulling the cigarette from his mouth with shaking hands. 

“Balthazar got drafted.” he mutters to his brother, glancing at the wounded man beside him.

Lucifer looks back and plucks the cigarette from his fingers and takes a drag staring up at the deceptively calm sky.

“Castiel joined up through choice.” he says, emotionlessly.

Lucifer says nothing and keeps staring at the sky, the fresh wounds red and angry against his pale skin.

Finally his older brother sighs and flicks the butt away, hunkering down for sleep in their dark little pit for the night, gathering up the scratchy blanket and pulling it around himself and Gabriel.

–

Chuck Shurley was an author of mild success, his novels brought in enough money to give his family a good life. He was a quiet man, uncomfortable in crowds and likely to turn to the bottle when forced from his comfort zones. But when he wasn't being pushed into society to appease his publishers, he was a kind man that cared for his friends and 

Becky Shurley, formerly Becky Rosen, was also an author although she preferred to write romance than the thrillers and science fictions that Chuck enjoyed. On the side she wrote homoerotic works that were published and spread in the darker corners of society and she definitely wasn't the only one.

They met at a party, like many people, both out of place and keeping to the shadows as much as they could. 

Chuck because of his dislike for interaction had strategically hidden near the decorative plants and expensive artworks, he'd adopted a deep thoughtful gaze that deterred people from approaching him, if that failed then they were easily persuaded to leave him be as he scribbled out meaningless words in his ever present notebook. 

Becky found herself biting her lip, hovering around the plants. Her own dislike for these events was not so much a social phobia but more of an encouraged behaviour instilled in her by her brother. Her attitude wasn't seen as fitting for a women.

So they found themselves hiding in the same alcove, just two outcasts avoiding a scene. Becky of course lost all composure when she recognized Chuck and ended up making that scene her brother was so afraid of her making. Her loud, unladylike laughter was brought forth by the glimpse of what the shy author had been scribbling all night. 

They left together that night, Chuck smiling shyly as Becky swept him up like a storm. Neither cared about the commotion they left behind. 

Three months later they were married and expecting their first child. Michael Shurley was born nine months later and they spoiled him rotten.

As their family grew, their small house in the city became a little claustrophobic. Becky found the Ranch and fell in love, Chuck just wanted whatever would make them happy and the fact that it meant less social obligations helped a lot.

Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, Gabriel, Balthazar, Castiel and Anna grew up with a free run of the place, free to indulge in their imaginations and play to their hearts content. The Shurley household didn't conform to the social norms, they let their kids run free and dream what they wished.

–

He'd once dreamed of becoming a chef or an artist, someone who made something. He loved to bake and make candies. Michael kept telling him that he needed a more financially beneficial aspiration. Didn't stop his oldest brother from enjoying the things he made.

Lucifer was more supportive of his dreams, the second oldest Shurley brother was his closest friend and the one who taught him everything he could. To be honest, they were terrors, pranking their brothers, sister and parents at every opportunity. Lucifer is the one who showed him how beautiful things could be, showed him how bad things could be too. 

Raphael tried to encourage him to take a more practical route like Michael. The third oldest looked up to Michael like he was a god. Got pissed as hell during the prank wars, but loved them all the same.

The younger brothers and their sister looked up to them, thought they were heroes. To be fair, he revelled in the attention as much as his older brothers did. But at the same time, he took every opportunity to play with them, to teach them like Lucifer taught him.

Michael tried to encourage him to get a job, to settle down with a lovely girl and make his life worth something. Gabriel knew that it was not a life he could have, that would require an interest in women and that was not something he had. He hid it, didn't really have a choice, the penalty was to great. So he did what anybody would do and drowned himself in alcohol and bedded as many willing women as he could, much to his oldest brother's displeasure.

–

His eyes flutter open to stare at the flurry of snow drifting gently in the wind. His cheeks are numb and he hasn't even dared to leave the warmth of the scratchy army issue blanket yet. He lets himself drift for a while, not wanting to face the world yet. He manages to pull out wrinkled cigarette, with shaking fingers, from the packet and lights it. Sometimes Gabriel doesn't know why he joined, but sometimes he thinks it was the best thing he could have done. 


	2. Life in Technicolour

Sam Winchester was one of their company Medics. He was 6'4 of pure muscle and adorable smiles when he wasn't patching up dying men or dodging bullets, sprinting from foxhole to foxhole in an amazingly uncoordinated tangle of limbs.

They hadn't gotten off to a good start, Sam had been one of the fresh faced kids that came in to replenish the ranks after Normandy. None of them had been that welcoming to the new kids, too afraid to befriend them in case they didn't make it long. It was an all too common problem. But Sam proved to be a useful Medic and more importantly, seemed to have an an angel on his shoulder when it came to surviving firefights and heavy artillery.

They'd properly met when Sam had fallen face first into Gabriel's foxhole during a shelling. To say that Gabriel had been shocked by the sudden arrival of the overgrown puppy would be the understatement of the century. It was only sheer dumb luck that he hadn't skewered the kid with his bayonet, possibly even luckier that the kid hadn't done the same to himself with his dramatic entrance. It had taken a minute for Sam to figure out which way was up and blink sheepishly up at him from, rather embarrassingly for the both of them, between Gabriel's legs. 

–

Gabriel stared at the kid and the kid stared back. He had no idea how someone so clumsy could have survived this long. The kid had tripped over an unexploded artillery round yesterday and had set the damn thing off. 

Before that he'd almost skewered himself on his own rifle and before that had dropped a live grenade at his own feet. It was probably a good thing the kid hadn't been part of the initial Normandy invasion. Although knowing Winchester, he'd probably have survived through a series of accidents, or even through his impressive skill. The kid may be a disaster waiting to happen but there was no doubting he was strong and well trained, with the body to show for it.

“Uh, you mind if I stick with you for the night?” Winchester asks, a faint blush still staining his cheeks.

“Sure thing. Probably safer for everyone that way.” he shrugs, moving his rifle away from the kid. 

The younger man ducks his head and bites his lip in embarrassment. 

–

The cold sets in, not that it ever left, as night comes. Gabriel watches his breath cloud out among the snow covered branches that form the makeshift roof of their cover. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Winchester shivering and sighs. 

“Come here, no point you freezing to death.” he offers, lifting the side of his own blanket with a grim smile as the little warmth he'd manage to create vanishes.

“You sure?” Winchester asks.

“Look, I let out any warmth I had, refusing at this point would be rude and possibly murder.” he jokes, gesturing again.

Sam huffs out a laugh and sidles up to him, they spread both blankets over themselves and huddle up for warmth. The army issue blankets really didn't do much on their own.

–

If only they all had Sam Winchester's luck on their side. 

Lucifer got a face full of shrapnel and ended up being rushed off the field to the closest medical tent. All things considered, it could have been worse. The wounds had been cauterized and the marks would be permanent but it hadn't done any serious damage to anything but his looks. It's a shame the same thing couldn't be said about his mind. His caring brother became cold and angry, a furious creature that seemed to lose his compassion for humanity. 

Gabriel wishes that he hadn't seen what a monster Lucifer had become, he wishes he could forget the empty stares on those frozen terrified faces. Civilians and soldiers alike fell to his brother's rage. Maybe it was the way that Lucifer never really showed signs of the rage he seemed to be consumed by, dispatching his targets with a cold detachment.

He tries not to think too hard on the subject anymore. Lucifer had been shipped away, awaiting trial for the crimes he'd committed. He'd heard the higher ups discussing it, Lucifer's behaviour would have been ignored if he hadn't had gone after some of their own. 

–

He's half asleep when somebody drops into his foxhole, cursing away as they pull a blanket from their pack and huddle up to him.

“The Moose sends his apologies and has ordered me to, and I'm using his words when I say this, 'make sure my darling boyfriend doesn't freeze himself to death in some stupid attempt to become a frozen treat'.” the newcomer announces, patting down his pockets for his cigarettes.

“Piss off, Crowley. Doesn't sound a thing like him.” he mumbles at the Brit.

“Oh well, it's sort of what he said. I wasn't paying much attention.” Crowley shrugs, finally locating the packet and pulling two out.

Gabriel chuckles and eyes the Brit, Fergus Crowley was a man you had to watch out for. He could talk you into or out of anything he wanted and was definitely the King of any and all gambling. Many a man had lost money and rations to him, but that had become a useful skill in some ways. They had started to send him around the other units when they were short on supplies and the cheeky shit always came through.

“Fancy a fag and a chat?” the man asks, waving the cigarettes under Gabriel's nose.

“And what would we be chatting about?” he asks, taking one of the offered cigarettes.

“Anything and everything, darling.” Crowley purrs, lighting his smoke and then Gabriel's.

–

He wakes up warm and groggy, his head feels like a lead weight and he's not even going to start thinking about the rest of him until the unsettling nausea lifts. The situation isn't helped when his pillow shifts under him and jolts his stomach. Thankfully he's well practiced with dealing with mornings like this, he'd had a lot of practice back home.

When he's feeling better he's going to murder Crowley and his ill gained liquor. But for now he's more than content with using the man as a source of comfort. When you could die at any moment, comfort was appreciated no matter what form it took. 

He feels a hand stroking his thigh and nuzzles at Crowley's throat sleepily. It has been a long time since he's done anything with anyone. Most mornings he didn't even dare to sort himself out, it was too cold and the threat of frostbite down there really wasn't appealing. So it's really not surprising when his body reacts to the touch the way it does. 

And that was how he ended up in a mutually beneficial arrangement with Fergus Crowley. The man was a menace.

–

Much to everyone's surprise, Lucifer Shurley returns to active duty. It was ruled that his skills were too valuable and the American troops he'd killed were deserters. It was a cover up. But Gabriel couldn't find it in himself to care. He'd missed his brother.

When he first comes face to face with Lucifer again, he freezes. It's not the smartest thing to do in a war, but he was sure that he'd never see the man again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
